Love is a fickle thing
by Married-To-Punk
Summary: Romeo's view on love and how it works. - Not my usual, but an English Project which I thought I'd share.


I don't believe in love.

There's no cupid flying round with a pointed arrow, nor a stalk that brings babies to their parents. There's no guy out there who fits the description of a perfect man. And neither is they're the women of everyone's dreams. They don't exist, and neither does love. Love is just a word someone used on their partner before having their wicked way as not to seem shallow. Love always ends badly, you fall out of love, or cause pain on the other, you are taken away.

Love is greed,

Love is neediness,

Love is weakness.

Love is the fault of every hero in every story told, and I refuse to fall in love.

I didn't believe in love until I saw her.

She floated around the room in a pale white dress, her pretty voice just audible of the chatter of the stuck up guests. Against everything I had believed, I fell for the graceful swan. Rosaline. Her voice gave me shivers, and my lips tingled as I said her name out loud. But she was too good for me, she saw me as a puppy. Adorable to dote on when in need of a treat to show off to her giggling friends, and with words sounding so musical I had to comply. But the blushes and speechlessness weren't enough when an older, more charming man swooped in for stolen kisses and caresses sweet to the mind.

Unrequited love is pain,

Unrequited love is defeat,

Unrequited love is weakness.

Unrequited love is heartache rooted deep in your stomach, but I refused to let go.

I didn't believe in love at first sight until she was here.

Her eyes averted from me gaze, her shy touch when she pushes my fringe back out of my eyes. The pure innocence that just radiated off of her. That was when it clicked, the moment everyone talks about. The moment where you realise what you're living for, you understand the point in life, you're happy. I couldn't believe that my one love sprung from my one hate. She was nothing like the childish tales my cousins would tell me, there were no fangs, no claws and no gleaming red eyed. Just pearly white teeth, delicate fingers that wove themselves into our hair during our most intimate times and hazel eyes that shone more than the stars themselves. And when I held her, everything seemed good in the world. All my pain melted away, my worries uncreased, and my devotion grew for her. I didn't understand it though, why her? Why Juliet? We could have anyone in the world, but we fell in love with our enemy sworn from birth. And honestly, we wouldn't have it any other way. What we had was special, I was no longer the blushing schoolboy, I was a man. And she was my lady, I spent hours thinking about the new dress she had on, the shade of her plump lips that asked for the warmth and comfort of my own, and the little spot near her nose she had tried to conceal but I had noticed and loved her even more for it.

Love is beautiful,

Love is tender,

Love is unconditional adoration.

Love is wanting nothing more than to be with them and never leave, I will stay by Juliet always.

I didn't believe in love ache until I saw her watching me.

Eyelids closed tightly, my heart had ached for one last touch from her porcelain hands. One last contact between eyes pulled together by fate, one last kiss. 'This is what heart ache is,' I thought. I imagined never seeing her again and my heart contracted as if it was myself dead. With swift hands, the poison touched my lips and I knew it was the end. Her fingers caressing my face as the poison took hold of me, the enlightenment in her eyes when she realised what we had done, the look on her face that mirrored mine. My heart ached when I watched her take her own life, she couldn't do that. She shouldn't have done that, she still had family, a life to live, one she should have continued without me. And when this dawned in my, my heart broke in two and I rest my eyes to never open.

Love is painful,

Love is brutal,

Love is agony.

Love is a pain in your heart, as though a knife being drawn straight through it, and I refuse to play loves game.

I don't believe in love.

I see that now, as I watch my family mourn over my dead body from above. The tells of star-crossed love spreads like wildfire, as understanding dawns on me. It doesn't matter that I thought I was in love, because that was nothing more than a mirage. As I took my last shattered breath, and felt Juliet take hers beside me I finally understand. We had been wrong from the start, we were not in love. We were rebelling against everyone, ourselves, our parents, our houses. Love is the need to prove something, and I can see how fruitless it is from the fact that Juliet has not been sighted by myself since that fateful day in the chapel. Being above I can observe my family, the tears of my sisters, the silence of my brothers, the distant eyes off my parents, the complete loss in Benvolio's actions. Love wasn't worth that, We were wrong, Love means nothing more than regret.

Love is greed,

Love is neediness,

Love is weakness.

Love is the fault of every hero in every story told, and I refuse to fall in love.


End file.
